


The Man of My Dreams

by slowcookedvig



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Weird dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowcookedvig/pseuds/slowcookedvig
Summary: Kurt has a history of weird stress dreams, even more now that he's graduated from NYADA and is trying to make it as a performer.Blaine has pretty normal dreams for a college senior. Nudity. Missed exams. Forgotten lines in a show. Things like that.But one night, Blaine ends up in a weird dream about a guy whose plane lands on a street near Blaine's university. And Kurt dreams about a guy who helps him get home after his plane makes an emergency landing.And after that, the dreams keep happening.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 15
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't meant to start writing this. I woke up from a bizarre dream, trying to turn it into something less absurd as I figured out that I had been dreaming, and suddenly, there was a story.
> 
> This initially was a kind of 5+1 fic, but then that didn’t really work.
> 
> I also am playing a bit with tropes, which is something that I normally try to avoid. I am really sensitive to anything that lacks blatant consent - even common romantic fantasies like lovers-who-are-fated-to-end-up-together make me squeamish. It's hard to balance that sensitivity with most romantic tropes, and it's especially hard to fit obvious consent into the concept of this fic.
> 
> The structure of this might be a bit confusing. Please let me know if it's hard to tell dreams from reality here.

Blaine is taking a walk in the park, trying to think through the bridge of the song that he's writing, when the plane lands.

In retrospect, he probably should have realized that was weird. The airport is on the other side of Pittsburgh, not anywhere near Carnegie Mellon, where he is studying musical theatre. But Blaine doesn't think. He runs toward the plane, which is sitting on the street, just sitting there, like it's on the tarmac waiting for passengers to leave.

Blaine is so busy staring at it that he doesn't see the man until he grabs Blaine's arm. "I need a ride to the airport," the man says. His eyes are wide and blue and desperate. "I'm going to miss my connecting flight."

"Sure," Blaine says. "My car is right here." And it is. Though it's an SUV, and Blaine drives a Prius. But his fob unlocks the door, and he lets the man into the passenger seat, then gets in and starts to drive.

"Wait," the man says. "I don't have my wallet. I need my ID. And my boarding pass! I left them on the plane." He grabs Blaine's hand. "Please. We have to go back. I need to get home."

Blaine doesn't ask. He just flips a U-turn, but the plane isn't there, and then suddenly they're on the freeway, speeding past a sign that says _Welcome to Ohio_. And it doesn't make sense that Blaine would be heading home to Ohio, or that he gets off at the exit to Lima rather than Westerville, or that he pulls into an unfamiliar driveway.

But it makes perfect sense when the man leans over and kisses him, then pulls away and smiles. "Thank..."

_...And don't ever look back, don't ever look back..._

It's Katy Perry. Blaring out of Blaine's phone. And Blaine's alarm has been going for quite a while, if it's at that part of the song already.

Plus Sam is shaking his arm and Tina is yelling something about getting to class.

That's right. Blaine was up late last night, writing a paper, and now he needs to turn it in. He lets his hair stay wild, pulls on some clothes, pours some coffee into his travel mug, and rushes down the stairs out of the apartment. His Prius is sitting where he parked it last night. And fortunately, there isn't too much traffic, and he manages to find a convenient parking spot on campus without too much searching.

He finally manages to take a breath after the lecture begins. His lips tingle as the air slides past them, slow as a kiss in a dream.

*

"Spill, Hummel." Santana looks like some kind of hungry predator this morning, more so than usual. Maybe it's the way her fingernails wrap around her coffee mug. Maybe it's the delighted look on her face. "We heard you shouting."

"It was a _dream_ , Santana." Kurt rolls his eyes and pours granola into a bowl.

"You _were_ very loud," Rachel agrees. "I could hear you from the shower."

"And Rachel was _singing_ ," Santana points out. Fair enough. Rachel never hears other people when she's singing. "Come on, Hummel. You have the most _awesome_ weird dreams." It almost sounds like begging. Though Santana never begs.

Kurt tries to ignore both of his roommates while he spoons yogurt into his granola, then carries his coffee to the table. He never should have told them about the dream involving naked aliens judging Regionals, way back during senior year of high school. Or the one last year, while Kurt was preparing for his final performance at NYADA, about their loft turning into a gigantic hamster habitat, complete with crumpled paper and a wheel that Rachel ran in while doing her vocal warmups.

Ok. Fine. Kurt has weird dreams sometimes. It happens to the best of people. And he happens to live in a loft full of stressed-out, constantly auditioning performers who for some bizarre reason want _him_ to provide the drama for their lives.

"You really should tell us." Rachel waves her copy of Backstage at him, then takes a sip of her tea.

Kurt finally settles into his spot at the table and dips his spoon into his granola. When he looks up, Santana and Rachel are both watching expectantly.

"Fine," he sighs. "Yes. I was having a dream."

Santana smiles, like she's finally getting the entertainment that she needs to survive.

He sorts through his scattering memory for enough bizarre details to satisfy them. "I was flying home," he starts. He doesn't tell them about the way anxiety roiled in his gut in the dream. They know that he worries about his dad, but he tries not to let them know how stressed out he gets, being _here_ when his father is _there._ "I was doing the crossword in the back of the magazine when the flight attendant - who turned into Miss Pillsbury sometime after the seatbelt demonstration - came rushing back and grabbed my arm. Something had happened to the pilot..." It was a stroke, but Kurt doesn't feel the need to elaborate. "...and she needed me to fly the plane."

"Wasn't there a co-pilot?" Rachel asks.

"Shut up, hobbit." Santana glares at her. "It's a dream."

"Yes, but Kurt said he's been practicing lucid dreaming, so he can control what happens," Rachel insists.

"I can only control what I do, not everything else that happens," Kurt reminds her. "And I'm not very good at it." He has explained this before, but Rachel simply doesn't understand that the universe doesn't just do what Kurt wants. Not even in dreams.

"Less arguing. More telling about the dream." Santana crosses her arms.

"So I went into the cockpit and landed the plane on a street," he continues. "In Pittsburgh."

"How did you know it was in Pittsburgh?" Rachel frowns at him. "Have you ever been there?"

"He just knew. Let him finish." Santana leans forward, waiting for the story to get juicier.

"So I hurried off the plane, because I was late to catch my connecting flight." He rolls his eyes at Rachel. "Yes, I know, why was I changing planes in Pittsburgh."

Santana waves her hands at him in the universal gesture for _hurry up and get on with it_.

"I grabbed the first person I found," he continues. He can still feel the arm, warm under his fingers. And see the look in the man's light brown eyes. It wasn't surprise, or annoyance. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to have Kurt's hand on his arm. "We got into his car. Which was actually my car from high school. And then I realized that I forgot my ID and phone and credit cards and carry-on and everything on the plane, and he turned the car around and drove me back to Lima." And then... Kurt's lips tingle. He doesn't know why he kissed the man in the dream. His stress dreams never turn into sex dreams, and besides, the kiss had been too sweet for a sex dream. And the man had been fully clothed the entire time.

"That was it?" Santana frowns at him. "No aliens? No nudity?"

"She's right," Rachel agrees. "You were awfully loud for a dream that didn't have any aliens in it."

"I left all my clothes on the plane," Kurt grumbles. "It was traumatic."

"Sure it was." Rachel pets his arm. Kurt tolerates it for a moment, then pulls away and eats another spoonful of granola.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine sorts through the mail as he walks into the apartment. His phone bill. A credit card bill for Tina. Junk mail, junk mail, more junk mail. A crayon-decorated envelope for Sam, probably from his little sister. Something official-looking from Lima, Ohio...

Sam is in the kitchen heating up some dinner. "Hey," he calls. "I've got Spaghetti-Os and kale if you want some."

Blaine shakes his head. "You got something official from Lima, Ohio," he tells Sam. "A jury summons?"

"Oh, right," Sam says. "You can throw that away. They keep sending those to me."

"You can't just _ignore_ a jury summons," Tina interjects. She's sitting at the table, reading something on her tablet.

"But I don't live there anymore," Sam replies.

"Did you change your driver's license?" Tina asks. "Did you fix your voter registration?"

"No..." Sam frowns. "I don't think I ever registered to vote."

"Then you're still an Ohio resident." She shakes her head at him. "Just change everything and you can tell them to stop."

Blaine tries to follow the conversation. "You're from Lima?" The letter from Sam's sister had a Kentucky postmark.

"We both are," Tina says. "Don't you remember? I told you, freshman year, during that dumb icebreaker game in our dorm. I'm from Lima, you're from Westerville, and we both sing. Except you're actually good enough to get into the theatre program here."

"No, I don't remember that." Blaine shakes his head. "All I remember is sitting beside you in Computing class fall semester. And meeting Sam at that Halloween party."

"That was an awesome costume, dude," Sam says. "Sorry I thought you were dressed as a villain."

"That wasn't an excuse for punching him." Tina has made this point before.

"I can't believe you remember any of that, Tina," Blaine says. "You were really drunk."

"Fortunately, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Tina stands, stretches, and kisses him on the cheek. "Even if Sam still hasn't figured out which state he lives in."

"I was only planning on working concessions for the Steelers for one year," Sam shrugs. "Not four."

"We're glad you stayed," Blaine reassures him. But he looks at the jury summons again, and wonders why Lima is suddenly in his subconscious.

It must still be on his mind when he goes to bed, hours later, and starts to dream.

*

"Two cappuccinos, please," the woman says. "And a cinnamon scone."

Kurt stares at her. Right. He's here. At the Lima Bean. Where he hasn't worked since senior year in high school. He glances down for confirmation, and yes, he _is_ wearing that hideous apron.

He plasters on a smile, writes down her order, and swipes her card.

The next person asks for a chocolate turtle. So Kurt pulls one out of the case. It squirms and tries to bite him, and he puts it down quickly. He doesn't have much time to be horrified as the customer strips off the shell and pops it into his mouth, because the next person in line is there already.

"That was weird." It's a boy in a blue blazer, with dark hair and light brown eyes, and...

Kurt blinks. It's _him_. From the other dream.

"Could I get a medium drip, please?" the boy asks. "And a cookie?" He wrinkles his nose. It's very cute. "Maybe one that doesn't come to life?"

"Sure," Kurt says.

The boy's hand touches Kurt's as he pays, and there's a little shock, like the boy has been rubbing his feet on a carpet, like the electrons in the boy's skin crave connection with all of Kurt's protons.

He has already turned away when Kurt realizes that he never asked the boy for his name. So he just draws a squiggle on the side of the cup and hands it to Santana, then turns to the next customer.

"Medium drip for ' _Cute Boy_ '!" Santana yells. " _Cute Boy_! Your coffee is ready!" She glares at Kurt. "Make me say that again, Hummel, and I'll remove your testicles with a spoon." She shakes a spoon at Kurt, in case he doesn't understand.

But Kurt isn't at the register anymore. He's at the end of the counter, trying to catch the chocolate-covered espresso beans, which are in the process of pouring out onto the floor. He spins around, desperately trying to capture them with his apron, and his elbow flies out and hits something and hot liquid hits his arm and he's about to apologize and...

Oh. Hello.

"Are you all right?" The boy's eyes are warm with concern, and his hand is on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt stares at the boy as he glances at Kurt's lips and leans in...

And then Kurt blinks awake.

His room is still dark, and the loft is quiet. He lies in bed for a moment, hoping that the noise of the city has masked any sounds he might have made. When he's sure that Santana and Rachel aren't awake, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and splashes water on his face, then goes into the kitchen and puts on a kettle of water. If they wake up, he can tell them that they heard him making tea, and that he couldn't sleep after the late shift at the diner. And... maybe he'll distract them by reading the ads in Backstage to them. Or something.

He certainly isn't going to tell them that he's having recurring dreams about a cute guy.

*

Blaine reaches for a cloth to clean up the spilled coffee, and finds the edge of his blanket, instead. He opens his eyes, sits up, and stares into the darkness.

He's never been in that coffee shop, but somehow, he's sure it is a real place. As real as the Dalton blazer he was wearing in his dream. He grabs his phone and looks at the time. It's barely after midnight. He should go back to sleep. But instead, he opens Google Maps, pans over to Lima, Ohio, and does a search for "coffee shops." There are several. Lots of chains, of course, but some local places, too. He scrolls through the list.

There. The Lima Bean. It exists.

And maybe the gorgeous man that he almost kissed exists, too.

Blaine closes his eyes and tries to will the man into his dream again. But there's just panic about being naked and missing an exam, instead.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should look at the casting calls I highlighted," Rachel calls from the bathroom. "There are a couple roles that might be suited for your voice."

Kurt flips through the issue of Backstage that's lying on the table. Rachel has already been through it, marking it up with multicolored highlighters and star stickers. But it doesn't have Santana's usual additions (snarky commentary in the margins and rude drawings on the pictures), so it's a fairly new issue. And... yes. Well, ok, some of the roles would be horrible fits for him. (A baritone? He's got a good range, but... No.) But there are some commercials, and one show is holding auditions for the ensemble and some minor roles.

He pulls out his laptop, sends his resume and headshot, and starts thinking through audition songs and monologues.

*

The preparation is nerve-wracking.

Kurt's history as a performer is full of disappointments. Solos that he didn't get. Roles for which he wasn't even considered. Even admission to college, delayed until after he had auditioned _twice_. Sure, there were successes as well, usually after practicing harder and trying again and again. His dad tells him that the persistence makes him stronger, and Santana has (privately, between insults) told him that his setbacks make him more interesting than Rachel. But this is still a business where first impressions are important. And _grit_ and _resilience_ and _character-building_ are, frankly, exhausting.

Kurt has practiced two different songs and three different monologues. He won't use them all. He won't have time. But there's always the chance that he'll realize on the spot that he needs something different if he wants to stand out. To stand out in the right way, that is. Which is always so hard to judge.

He sets his alarm to go off early, so he'll be able to get his name on the list in time to actually audition. And then he tries to go to sleep.

 _Tries_ being the operative word.

*

Blaine is standing in a train car. Or a subway car? He's standing, holding onto a pole, and there's a voice announcing stops like "Central Park" and "Broadway" and "Empire State Building," so it must be in New York. Though Blaine has no idea whether those are real stops on a real subway line; he's only been to the city once before. And he doesn't really need to be standing, because the rest of the car is empty.

Or at least, it's empty until another passenger walks in.

The man is rushed and distracted, talking quietly to himself. And it's New York, so Blaine figures he should keep his distance. But then the man turns and Blaine catches a glimpse of the man's face out of the corner of Blaine's eye.

Perfectly upswept hair. Pale skin. Sharp blue eyes above an upturned nose . A wide, expressive mouth and a cleft chin. A fitted vest and tight jeans and some kind of quirky broach pinned just below his collar. It's _him_. The man from the plane that landed on the street. The barista from the Lima Bean.

The man who kissed him. The man that Blaine almost kissed.

Blaine is trying to work up the courage to introduce himself when the car shudders to a stop. All the lights go out except one emergency light. Because this is clearly an emergency.

"No," the man murmurs. "No no no no no."

"There's got to be a way out of this," Blaine says. "Some kind of emergency exit." He walks over to the doors and tries to force them open. They won't budge. "Maybe we should call 911 or something?"

The man shakes his head. "There's no service down here."

Blaine looks around. Maybe there's a call button, or a lever to release the doors. But there's nothing. Just windows into blackness, and a single light glinting off the man's eyes.

The man sags into one of the seats.

"What's the matter?" Blaine asks.

The man starts to wave him off, like it's not something he wants to talk about. But then he looks up and shrugs. "I was on my way to an audition," he says. "Broadway."

Blaine nods encouragingly.

"Nothing big," the man continues. "Just a role in an ensemble."

"You've got to get your foot in the door," Blaine agrees.

"Exactly," the man replies. "And now I'll be late to get on the list. They might never even get to me." He sighs. "It's not like I even knew which song to sing, anyway."

"What were the options?" Blaine asks. He waves his hands at the empty car. "You could sing in here. The acoustics could be interesting."

The man tilts his head. "You want to hear them?"

Blaine nods. "I do."

So the man starts to sing. And... it's like a revelation. Sweet and sad; alternately clear and raw. Soaring to the high notes, teasing with the low ones. Blaine is entranced.

The man stops. "Well?"

Blaine blinks and tries to compose himself. "The... the second one. I think." He shakes his head, like that will make him think more clearly. "But they're both amazing. Seriously. You're going to blow them away."

The man blushes and ducks his head. "Thanks," he says.

And then they stand there in silence, like neither one is sure what happens next.

And that's when the lights come on and the car starts moving. Blaine has to take a step to keep his balance...

And he startles awake.

That's three dreams. And he still doesn't know the man's name.

*

Kurt feels like he's flying as he walks onto the stage. He can still see his dream-friend's eyes on him, still feel the warmth in his bones as the man tells him that his singing is amazing.

He doesn't hear the audition results for a week. He's not sure if that's bad, though he paces in the loft and snaps at Rachel and worries through his shifts at the diner.

And then... he doesn't get the part.

And that lightness, that feeling of floating that he had felt since the dream with his friend in the subway... it's gone. Escaped like the helium from an aging birthday balloon, leaving him both stretched and shriveled, like he has been pulled open and then left unfilled.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine had three dreams in five weeks. And then... nothing.

Well, fine. There are normal dreams. About forgetting which night the student show opens, and forgetting his lines, and showing up on stage without his costume. About his brother giving a special guest lecture in Blaine's Acting for Screen class. About Tina and Sam setting the Thanksgiving turkey on fire.

But no matter how bizarre his dreams are, _he_ isn't in them.

By the time the semester is over, Blaine has started putting together a secret not-exactly-a-crime-board with notes about every little detail regarding his dream man. He searches Google Street View along every residential street near the Lima Bean, looking for the driveway where he dropped off the man. ( _Where the man kissed him._ ) He checks the Broadway blogs daily, looking for casting news, for pictures of a man with pale skin and perfect hair.

He's a real person. Blaine is certain of it. But New York is a big city, and Blaine has no idea how to search for young performers with a connection to Lima, Ohio.

*

There's a part of Blaine that wishes he were going to Ohio for Christmas, that he could lie to his parents about going Christmas shopping and spend a day in Lima, instead. That he could drive every street until he finds the house that he remembers from his dream. But his family has been planning to meet in California this year, so Blaine can hang out with his brother and talk about show business, and his parents can join them in a condo in Carpinteria and wear Santa hats on the beach.

Parts of the trip are all right. There's the day of pure tourism, wandering down Hollywood Boulevard, taking selfies beside various stars on the Walk of Fame, watching Cooper pretend to be interviewed on the red carpet in front of the Dolby Theatre. There are moderately embarrassing moments, too, like the night that Cooper gets Blaine drunk at a piano bar and convinces him to sing duets in hopes of catching the eye of a casting director. And then there are the days that are horrific: three different blind dates with men who are, unbelievably, even more self-absorbed than Cooper.

None of the men have wide blue eyes or crystal-clear countertenor voices.

It isn't until Blaine's parents have arrived, and they've piled their presents around a tiny tree and settled in with cookies and mulled wine, that they finally start talking about the future.

"...and Blaine can stay on my futon until he has an agent of his own..." Cooper hasn't stopped talking for the past fifteen minutes.

Blaine finally interrupts. "I don't want to move to LA," he announces. "I want to go to New York."

Cooper puts down his wine and points. "That's no way to start a career."

"I majored in musical theatre for a reason," Blaine says.

"And you didn't need to major in _anything_ ," Cooper replies. "Not to get a job as an actor. You were just avoiding your future and looking for an excuse to sing."

"You do love to sing, honey," Blaine's mother agrees.

"And that's why I want to go to New York." Blaine bites his lip. He doesn't usually win these arguments.

"You can sing in LA," Cooper points out. "Singing your own jingles gives you a competitive edge. And there are even some tv shows that want singers."

Blaine shakes his head. "But Broadway..." He looks to his mother for support. If anyone is going to stick up for him, it will be his mother.

Cooper narrows his eyes at Blaine. "It's a boy, isn't it."

"It's... NO. It's not a boy." Blaine doesn't exactly make eye contact with any of them.

But his mother notices and raises her eyebrows. "What's his name, sweetie?"

"It's not a boy, Mom." Blaine knows that he isn't fooling them. But it's better than admitting that he doesn't even know the dream-man's name.

"Blaine." Cooper is looking at him seriously. "This isn't like that guy from the Banana Republic, is it?"

"It was The Gap." And it's even worse now that Blaine's father has joined in.

"Really, sweetie. We don't want you to get hurt." And his mother piles on, as well. It's almost as humiliating as the time his mother found the YouTube video of the Gap Attack, and showed it to his brother, and Cooper called Blaine to explain the lyrics Blaine had been singing. (Though it would have been worse if _Cooper_ had found the video and their _mother_ had explained the lyrics.)

"I was _sixteen_ ," Blaine grumbles.

His mother pats him on the knee. It doesn't help.

Blaine stands up. "I just remembered... we bought chocolates at Trader Joe's. Who wants some?"

Fortunately, Blaine is not the only member of his family who can be distracted by food.

*

Spring semester senior year. Tina is working on a psychology research project, which gets a little weird, because she keeps asking Blaine to sign forms that give her permission to make Blaine take these weird surveys for her study. Sam has been taking community college classes, little by little, thinking about going into athletic training or teaching or something. And Blaine... Blaine needs to prepare his last showcase and, hopefully, make contacts with the alums who visit and run workshops and help students learn to network.

And Blaine is still watching the Broadway news for any sign of his dream man. During breaks between classes. While he sips his coffee in the mornings. In the evenings, before he falls asleep.

*

Kurt stands on the stage, waiting for the curtain to rise.

This shouldn't be _his_ dream. Rachel is the one who finally got a callback, and then a role, and who is now rehearsing and going on (and on, and on) about how wonderful it is to be on the stage. (Santana has offered to suffocate Rachel with a pillow if Kurt will help hold her down, but Kurt has refused. He would be just as giddy if he were the one with the role. And besides, Santana gets excited when she gets called to do a commercial, so she really shouldn't be complaining.)

This shouldn't be Kurt's dream, but he's having it, anyway. And this time, he just goes with it.

The curtain rises, and Kurt sings and dances and emotes. He knows that he won't remember anything about his role when he wakes up, but he throws himself into it anyway, just for the rush that he gets while performing. And then the audience applauds, and Kurt bows, and it's over.

He goes back into the dressing room and changes out of his costume, washes off the makeup, re-does his hair. He takes his time with it all. He wants to live in this part of the dream forever, and he knows that when he leaves, he'll discover that New York is being attacked by some kind of tentacled monster or a volcano has started erupting or every app has been deleted from his phone. He just wants a simple dream of success, just this once.

But finally, he is ready. He grabs his satchel and heads for the door.

There are people out there. People waiting to see the actors emerge. People - strangers - waiting to see _him_. He stares at the crowd, then plasters on a smile and starts signing things. (He's not sure where the Sharpie comes from, but it's a dream. These things happen.)

The crowd thins, little by little. He reaches out to take the last playbill, then looks up to see who has handed it to him.

It's _him_. The dark-haired dream-friend, the man who encouraged him in the subway before Kurt's failed audition.

The man looks both eager and relieved. " _There_ you are," he says. "I've been to every show on Broadway, it feels like. I didn't know which one you were in. I couldn't find you. I looked, and I looked... and it feels like I've been looking for you forever."

Kurt blinks, not sure what to say. _'I wanted to look for you, too, but I hated that I'd failed my audition?'_ Or _'when can I see you again?'_ Or _'is it ok if I kiss you?'_

But Kurt just takes his Sharpie and writes his name, then adds his cell number. He is about to hand it to the man when he is rudely shaken awake.

"Kurt. Kurt!" It's Rachel. And she is going to die a slow and painful death. Maybe by poison. And Kurt isn't even going to ask Santana to help.

Or maybe Kurt will just try to destroy her with the power of his glare. "Rachel. I was sleeping."

"Your privacy curtain is open," she huffs. "And you're wearing your clothes. Your _clothes_ , Kurt. You obviously didn't _mean_ to fall asleep."

He blinks, then looks at himself. She's... he absolutely hates to admit it, but she's right. "Fine," he says. "What is so important that you needed to rescue my wardrobe from wrinkles?"

She holds up his phone. "You left this on the table," she says. "It was buzzing. You got a text." She hands it to him. "Several texts. And from what's on the screen... I think you want to read them."

Kurt groans and sits up. Knowing Rachel, it could be an ad for a new kind of tea. (He knows it isn't an emergency about his father. Even Rachel would lead with that kind of news.)

 _Mr. Hummel,_ the message begins. _I got your name from a friend who saw you audition a few months ago. I'm casting a small show, and my friend thinks you might be perfect for the role._

Rachel waits impatiently. "Well?"

"It's just an invitation to audition." Kurt tries to play it down, though his heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest.

"You're going to respond," Rachel prods. "Right?"

Kurt nods slowly and takes a deep breath. "Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: tentacled monsters in NYC: just read The City We Became by NK Jemisin, ok?


	5. Chapter 5

Tina is bouncing when she comes back into the apartment. And that makes sense. After all, she just turned in a draft of her senior thesis, after not sleeping for three days straight. Blaine tries to ignore her, because he's a bit stressed; he probably shouldn't have agreed to help so many people with their senior showcase performances. All the practicing has made it difficult for him to finish his own work.

But Tina walks straight over to him and holds out an envelope. "Guess what we're doing for Spring Break!"

Sam looks up. "Going to South America to see an eclipse?"

Tina shakes her head. "Just open the envelope, Blaine."

Blaine tries to peel it open with his fingernail, but finally gives up and rips off the end. "Tickets?" He pulls them out and reads them. "To a show in New York?"

Tina nods. "One of our high school friends is in a new show on Broadway. And Sam and I thought that, since you are so obsessed with Broadway yourself, we could all go."

"Right," Sam says. "I totally knew it wasn't about an eclipse."

"A friend on Broadway?" Blaine's heart stops for a moment, then comes back with a beat that he could easily dance to.

Tina rolls her eyes. "Rachel says that this is her first starring role, though I'm pretty sure she's just in the ensemble. Rachel is..." She shakes her head, then shrugs. "She's something else. But the show will probably be fun."

 _Oh._ Blaine's heart slows back to a normal pace. _Rachel._ Which would not be the name of the mysterious cute guy who shows up in Blaine's dreams.

"Is anyone else going to be there?" Sam asks.

"Mercedes says she'll try to go when her tour comes to the East Coast, but that won't be until April," Tina answers. "Artie's already been. He says the show is just ok, but not to tell Rachel that."

Blaine tucks his disappointment away. "I've got some high school friends who live in the city," he offers. "I can see if they'll let us crash with them."

*

The show is all right. Blaine thinks that maybe he should meet this 'Artie' and see if their tastes coincide on anything else. (It's possible that Blaine is just trying to figure out how to meet all of Tina's and Sam's high school friends without telling anyone about Dream Man.)

The March wind is cold as they leave the theatre. It's late, but Trent gave them a key to his apartment and said they could show up whenever they want. Tina and Sam suggest going out to a diner; they've heard of a place near the theatre. Blaine is in the mood for some pie and conversation, so he immediately agrees. Tina pulls out her phone and reads the directions, and they start walking, trying to act like New Yorkers rather than tourists, but completely failing.

The Spotlight is the kind of place that wants to look like a funky diner, but is a bit too careful about its image to be authentic. Clean brick walls, covered in black-and-white photos of typical New York scenes. A counter that looks both vintage and new, or like something new that _wishes_ it were vintage. Bright neon signs. A shiny-but-old jukebox in the corner. Staff dressed in red and black form-fitting polyester. Blaine appreciates the well-kept classic look, even if it's all for show.

He straightens his bow tie. "I need to use the rest room," he tells Sam and Tina.

"No problem," Sam says.

"We'll get a table and see you out here," Tina adds.

When Blaine leaves the rest room, hair neatened and clothes readjusted, he is surprised by shouts and applause. He blinks, confused, until he sees what's going on. There's a dark-haired waitress starting to sing, dancing around the tables near where Tina and Sam are seated. She's good, with the kind of smoky mezzo-soprano voice that would fit in a much moodier place that this.

And then the chorus starts, and another voice joins hers. Blaine doesn't immediately recognize it, blended into the harmonies. But he knows the face. The pale skin, the posture, the hair.

It's the Dream Man. It's got to be. And he's even more breathtaking in person. Blaine stands in the entrance to the rest room, too dazzled to move, until the man bows, waves, and walks out the door onto the street.

It takes Blaine a few more moments, but eventually he joins Sam and Tina at their booth.

"Hey," Sam greets him. "You missed the show."

Blaine doesn't know what to say, but fortunately is saved by their waitress. It's the same dark-haired woman who sang.

"I hope you plan to pay for some food now that you've made me sing, Trouty Mouth," she says.

Sam actually glowers back at her. The look doesn't suit his face at all.

Tina shakes her head. "Blaine, this is Santana Lopez. She went to high school with us. And now she insults people for tips."

"Giving tourists the ' _New York experience_ ' that they want." She smiles at Blaine. It looks dangerous.

"I heard you sing," Blaine says, as diplomatically as possible. "You're very good. Do all the wait staff work in theatre?"

"They're mostly wannabe's," she says. "My roommates are more serious about it than I am. I do commercials."

"We just saw Rachel's show," Tina tells her.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Could you see her swaying in the background?"

"Rachel and Santana live together," Sam explains. "With the guy who was singing." He frowns. "Where did Kurt go?"

"His shift just ended," Santana says. "He's got rehearsal tomorrow, so he's not working overnight."

"He got cast?" Tina asks. "He really needs to be on Facebook more often. Tell him he needs to come to the reunion this summer."

Blaine listens, trying not to look excessively interested. But Santana notices, anyway.

"What's your story, Orville Redenbacher?" she says, smirking at Blaine's tie.

Blaine straightens, but Tina answers. "Blaine is our roommate. He's from Ohio, too. And he's moving to New York next year."

"He competed against us," Sam says. "He was a Warbler. But he's still cool."

"Not like Jesse St. James," Tina agrees.

"So he's ditched the lame-ass blazer, but still looks like someone's grandfather," Santana says, looking him over. "And, given that I don't get off on preppies, you have clearly ended up with the wrong roommate as your waitress. But I'm the one that you have. And you'd better order some food, before I lose my job."

They end up splitting three different slices of pie, documenting them in a series of photos, and dissecting the performances from the show. When they're done, Blaine adds the pictures to Facebook as well as to Instagram, and tagging Tina and Sam.

And maybe later, he'll see if he can find Dream Man's page in their lists of friends.

*

Kurt is about to go into the shower when Santana gets home from her overnight shift.

"You ran out of the diner awfully fast last night." She kicks off her heels, which is a sign of just how tired she is.

"I was already late clocking out," he replies. "Even before you grabbed me and made me sing for Sam and Tina. You know I needed to get some sleep."

"Don't blame me if they gossip _about_ you, rather than _with_ you," Santana says. "Or if I keep the tips from your fans."

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. As if he has fans. "Go to bed, Santana," he says.

She looks like she's considering saying something, but he goes into the shower and shuts the door before she has a chance.

*

Blaine doesn't get a chance to dig through Facebook until he's sitting in the airport, waiting to fly home. There's just too much to do in the city, between visiting the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building and all the different museums during the day, and going to clubs to dance or sing karaoke or check out new bands at night. He texts photos to his family to convince them that he's making the right choice, wanting to move to New York after graduation. Cooper replies with photos of sunshine and beaches and attractive men wearing sunglasses and not much else, but Blaine just shakes his head.

He has to sift through both Tina's and Sam's Facebook friends until finally, Blaine finds him. Kurt Hummel. Doesn't update his Facebook page, like, ever. Kurt uses Instagram a bit more, posting a few artistic shots of shadows and flowerpots and street signs, but there isn't much there, either. There aren't any photos of his face, except in some old show choir photos from high school. It's hard to pick him out, hidden in the back. Blaine can't be sure if he's actually the man from his dreams or not.

It feels creepy, stalking a guy about whom Blaine might have dreamed. So Blaine stops, and doesn't try to add Kurt to his list of friends.

*

Kurt dreams about rehearsing his lines. There might be a cute dark-haired guy in the audience, but Kurt can't be sure.

*

Blaine dreams about showing up naked to his showcase. Fortunately, he finds his clothes before the audience arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I experimented with Facebook and Instagram a very long time ago, before they became the same company. They didn't fulfill my social media needs and wants at the time, and I've never really gotten into them since then. While writing this chapter, I tried to figure out how people use them to connect with each other, but I probably got it entirely wrong. (And that's one reason why this near-meeting misses. I couldn't figure out how to make it work. But there are more chapters.)
> 
> ...And I just realized why I wrote this chapter in the way that I did. (Without a mutual dream.) I've got a thing for reunions. (Probably why canonical break-ups don't bother me the way they do most people; I get my pay-off when the characters get back together.) So there's a promise that this isn't the end!


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt's show opens, has moderately good reviews, and closes. It's not the kind of meteoric success that Rachel claims is inevitable for all of them, but it gives him a new network of directors and producers and writers, plus a line on his resume. It's a start.

*

Blaine's showcase is fine. His parents and Cooper come to see it, and the critique from his advisor is encouraging. And he's got a list of people to contact when he gets to New York. It's a start.

He's already beginning to pack, trying to stay out of Tina's way as she freaks out about her last finals. Plus she's decided to take the GREs and get ready apply to grad school, so she's studying every moment. Sam got accepted to Ohio State as a transfer student for next year, so he's trying to wrap up his last community college classes, too. The apartment is starting to feel both empty and cluttered.

"You're staying with your parents this summer?" Sam asks. He's leaning on a precarious pile of boxes, because they've already gotten rid of their couch.

"For a while, at least," Blaine replies, holding his hand out for the packing tape.

"Your folks aren't far from Lima, are they?" Sam cuts a long piece and hands it to Blaine. "You should come to our Glee Club reunion party. We won Nationals five years ago this month. Lots of people are bringing their friends and partners and roommates."

"Who's going to be there?" Blaine has mostly given up on meeting his dream man. Maybe he just made him up, based on Broadway blogs and the addresses on Sam's and Tina's mail. But a party might still be fun.

"If you're worried about running into Santana, don't," Sam says. "I mean, she'll probably be there, but there will be so many people for her to insult, she won't even notice you."

Blaine smooths the tape and adds the box to one of the stacks. "I'll think about it."

*

"Hey, Dad." Kurt has the phone on speaker while he slices vegetables. Officially, they all take turns cooking, but somewhere along the line they concluded that Rachel might poison them all accidentally and Santana might poison them on purpose. "How is everything?"

"Carole's doing well," Burt says. "Did she show you her latest experiment with scrapbooking?"

"She texted me some photos of it," Kurt says. "I should pull out my crafting supplies and give them to her when I come home for the reunion. I don't think I'm ever going to bring that stuff to the city with me."

"She'll like that," his father says.

"And what about you?" Kurt prods him. "You went to the doctor for your annual exam, didn't you?" There's a pause, and Kurt's heart starts to race. "Dad?"

"I went, I went," Burt says.

"And...?" Kurt isn't about to let up.

"Still no sign of the cancer," his dad begins. "Weight's doing well."

"Blood pressure?" Kurt reminds him. "Cholesterol?"

"Cholesterol is still good," Burt says. "Especially the kind that's supposed to be higher. Carole's been keeping an eye on my diet."

"That's good," Kurt says. "But you haven't told me about your blood pressure."

"It's a little higher than it was," Burt admits.

" _Dad._ " Kurt puts the knife down and paces across the kitchen.

"It's not high enough for the doctor to worry." His father is trying to be reassuring. "They're not starting me on medicine or anything."

"You shouldn't try to hide these things from me, Dad," Kurt grumbles. "I worry even more when you minimize them."

"I told you. I'm gonna be fine. Carole's taking good care of me, I'm eating right, I'm going for walks every day. Just the same as if you were here."

"Ok, Dad." But Kurt is still worried.

"And you'll be here in a week. Yeah?"

"Yes," Kurt confirms. "Are you sure you want to go to the airport? I can see when Mercedes gets in, and share a ride with her. Or with Rachel. Though I don't think Rachel has bought her ticket yet."

"I'll be there. With bells on."

Kurt laughs.

"Just you wait. I'll really do it someday."

"I'm looking forward to seeing that, Dad," Kurt replies. "Love you."

"Love you too, kiddo," his dad says. "Bring me some of those good bagels, ok?"

"I'll make sure to leave room in my carryon," Kurt promises. "I'll even leave some clothes behind if you promise to be healthy when I get there."

His dad laughs. "I'll believe that when I see it. Bye, kiddo."

"Bye, Dad." Kurt taps his phone to end the call, then sighs. He's going to worry until he sees his dad in person.

*

Cooper stays an extra few days after Blaine's graduation, officially to help load up all of Blaine's things and then caravan back to Ohio, driving the U-Haul while Blaine drives his Prius. But mostly, Cooper spends the time cornering famous people at graduation parties and quizzing Blaine about his sex life.

Blaine has had boyfriends, ok. Boyfriends that he has had sex with. Not just high school crushes that he embarrassed with inappropriate serenades at the mall. Maybe he hasn't had a serious boyfriend, or at least, a boyfriend who took the relationship as seriously as Blaine did. And maybe he hasn't had a boyfriend in over a year. But there's no reason for Cooper to get on his case about it.

By the time they've rented the U-Haul and gotten everything prepped for the drive, Blaine has decided that he never wants to talk to Cooper ever again. And yes, maybe that makes him the immature baby brother, but he figures he'll still be the baby brother when he's in his sixties, so he might as well just own the role.

Cooper goes back to his hotel, and Blaine sleeps in a pile of blankets on the floor of his nearly empty apartment.

*

Kurt's alarm goes off far too early for his flight home. He stumbles out of bed, grabs his suitcase, locks up the loft, and heads home. The subway to the airport takes a lot longer than it should, but Kurt tries to ignore the emu that's talking to a penguin until he has to push past them to get off the train and his suitcase gets caught on the emu's talons and it glares at him when he tries to get it disentangled. In about ten minutes, he is on the plane and landing in Ohio. He grabs his things - carryon, phone, jacket - and heads down to baggage claim to meet his father.

And then he waits.

Small children in Halloween costumes run in circles around him until they are chased off by the entire cast of every Real Housewives show that Kurt has ever watched. An army of ants tries to steal his luggage. When Madonna and Lady Gaga show up and throw slushies on his face, he realizes that it is time to take matters into his own hands. Or his own mind.

He calls a Lyft. He is not going to worry about his father. He is going to get himself home, where he will find everyone looking happy and healthy, and then his alarm will go off and he will head to the airport for his real flight home.

The Lyft is driven by Mrs. Garrett from _The Facts of Life_ , which sounds awesome in theory, except that she is nibbling on 'edibles' as they head to the freeway. Kurt grits his teeth and responds to her questions about his family and his job and his favorite flavor of condoms until suddenly a dinosaur appears out of nowhere and eats her. The dinosaur disappears, but now Kurt is stuck in a broken-down, half-torn-up Chevy on the side of a freeway. He climbs out, grabs his suitcase, and starts walking.

He has walked for ten feet, or maybe 30 miles, he isn't sure, when a white Prius pulls onto the shoulder in front of him. The driver rolls down the window and waves him over. It's a man with dark hair and yellow sunglasses, and he pops the trunk as Kurt approaches the car.

"Where are you going?" the man asks.

"Lima," Kurt answers.

"Get in," the man says. "I'll drive you there."

*

Blaine is driving home, his Prius filled with pillows, blankets, and an overnight bag, when he sees the man pulling his suitcase down the side of the freeway. So Blaine does what any polite driver who sees a stranded man with perfect hair walking along a freeway would do: he stops, lets the man put his suitcase in Blaine's trunk, and gives the man a ride.

"Thanks," the man says. "A dinosaur ate my Lyft driver."

Blaine looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "Tyrannosaur or velociraptor?" he asks.

The man just starts laughing, high and bright. It's adorable. "I have _no_ idea," he says. "My name is Kurt, by the way."

"I'm Blaine." He lifts his hand from the steering wheel to wave.

Kurt keeps looking at him. "I know you," he says. "You gave me a ride home after my plane almost crashed."

Blaine nods. "And you made me coffee." He doesn't mention that the cup was labeled ' _Cute Boy._ '

"And I nearly buried you in espresso beans," Kurt adds. He pauses. "You were in a stalled subway car and helped me choose a song for a Broadway audition."

"You were amazing," Blaine says. "In the subway car, and on stage." They drive in silence for a while. "What brings you to Lima?"

"My dad lives there." Kurt pauses for a moment. "I'm worried about him. He's got high blood pressure." He glances at Blaine. "What about you?"

"My family lives in Westerville," Blaine says. "I just graduated from college. I'm going home to sort out my things, and then I'm moving to New York City."

"Look me up when you get there," Kurt says. "Kurt Hummel." The freeway changes to residential streets. "We're here."

They pull into the driveway of a neat suburban house. Blaine puts the car into park. "The first time I met you..."

Kurt leans across the console and kisses him. "This is a dream," Kurt tells him. "But when you wake up, remember this. You said you were looking for me, when you dreamed about Broadway and had me sign your playbill." His eyes are wide and blue and hopeful. "Look for me when you're awake, too."

_Don't ever look back, don't ever look back..._

Blaine's alarm is going off. And it's time for him to drive to Ohio. And maybe this time, he'll go to Lima and find a cute boy in a coffee shop while they're both awake.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine hands the bag of chips and the bowl of guacamole to a blonde woman, who waves him into the party without any question. It's late afternoon, and everyone is in the back yard, between some flowering shrubs and a swimming pool. Tina texted to say that she and Sam were running late, and to just start introducing himself, and that _most_ of her high school friends probably wouldn't bite. Blaine laughs and goes to find the cooler for the beer he brought.

The coolers are in a bit of shade on the side of the house. Blaine blinks to adjust his eyes as he puts the beer away, then stands and looks at the growing crowd. There are probably twenty people milling around, and he doesn't know any of them.

"Do you ever wonder why, exactly, people get so nostalgic for high school?" The voice comes from the shadows behind him.

Blaine spins around so fast that he would have tipped over if it hadn't been for his dance training. There he is. Dream Man. Kurt. He's leaning against the wall, dressed in tight yellow jeans and a bright blue shirt that shows off his arms nicely. He's taller than Blaine remembers from his dreams.

Does he know that Blaine's been dreaming about him?

Blaine takes the safer path and responds to Kurt's question, not to Blaine's memories of his dreams. "I guess most people would say that high school feels like a simpler time. I mean, this just looks so _fun_." There's music playing, and two women are singing along while a tall Asian man dances.

"And you would never realize that five years have gone by." Kurt nods at a couple who are making out on a lawn chair. "I guess I understand nostalgia for singing and dancing, and even for the messy relationship drama. But I just can't separate that from getting thrown into dumpsters and slammed into lockers and soaked with slushies." He grimaces.

Blaine sighs. "Yeah," he says. "I got beat up for being gay my freshman year. I get it."

Kurt's sarcastic shell cracks, and he suddenly looks younger. "I'm sorry that you went through that. My name's Kurt, by the way."

Blaine smiles and holds out a hand to shake. "I'm Blaine." He looks back out at the rest of the group. "And it was a long time ago. I transferred to a different school, and things were better there. And college was great." Blaine sees the question implied by Kurt's raised eyebrow. "Carnegie Mellon. Musical theatre. I just graduated."

"Good program." Kurt looks impressed. "I finished at NYADA last year. Trying to make it on Broadway now."

"That's my dream, too," Blaine says. "Is it hard? The alums all talk about how to succeed, but they don't talk about the bad stuff."

Kurt nods. "It can be pretty demoralizing." He glances carefully at Blaine. "A little encouragement goes a long way, though."

Blaine remembers the dream about the stalled subway car. He can still hear Kurt practicing his audition songs, echoing in the strange acoustics.

Kurt glances away. "You didn't go to McKinley," he says. "What brings you to a New Directions party?"

 _You_ , Blaine thinks, but gets too freaked out to say anything. "I lived with Tina Cohen-Chang and Sam Evans while I was in college," he says instead.

Kurt looks around. "I haven't seen them here yet."

"They were running late," Blaine explains.

"Then I will need to keep you entertained until they arrive." Kurt waves a glass full of bright-colored liquid at him. "Want anything to drink?"

"I brought beer," Blaine says, and turns to the cooler to get one out. "Pittsburgh microbrews."

Kurt nods. "What's Pittsburgh like?" he asks. "I've only ever been there in dreams."

Blaine turns, halfway through opening his bottle.

"I hear the drive here can be rather challenging," Kurt continues. "What with dinosaur attacks and everything."

"It's only really bad if there are velociraptors." Blaine shrugs, watching Kurt carefully. "And sometimes, they help you meet interesting hitchhikers."

Kurt smiles slightly. He looks like he's about to say something else when he's interrupted by Tina's arrival.

"There you are!" she says. "I saw your guacamole and knew you had to be here somewhere."

"Hi, Tina." Kurt says it at exactly the same time that Blaine does, almost harmonizing. He looks at Blaine, amused.

"I see that I don't need to introduce you to Kurt," she says. "Come meet everyone else." She grabs Blaine's elbow and drags him to the part of the lawn that serves as a dance floor.

Blaine dances with Tina. He sings a duet with Sam. He gets introduced to Brittany and Mike and Artie and Rachel and Mercedes and... he can't keep track of them all. He looks for Kurt, but doesn't see him again until the short woman with the big voice - Rachel, he can remember her name - finishes a song and calls Kurt over to the speakers.

"Although I am the first of our number to achieve success on the professional stage, I would be remiss in ignoring the achievements of my roommate and dear friend, who has also had a role of his own, albeit on a smaller stage and with a great deal of encouragement from me and criticism from Santana." Rachel manages the entire sentence without taking a breath.

Santana blows a raspberry.

Rachel ignores her. "So in order to celebrate all of our successes, regardless of how small, I think we should ask Kurt to sing for us, as well."

Kurt rolls his eyes at her, but takes the microphone. "I sang this for my first audition," he says. "I know that this party is all about memories from high school, and most of you haven't heard this song before. But I like it."

It's the song from the subway dream. The second song, the one Blaine recommended. It's not as technically spectacular as it was in the dream, with the small speakers and the wind and the outdoor acoustics, but Blaine thinks he might love this performance more. For one thing, it's real; Kurt is standing there, flesh and blood. For another, he's looking at Blaine the entire time, like Blaine is the only person in the world.

When he's done, everyone claps politely, then runs up to the speakers to sing a raucous group number. Kurt heads back to his spot in the shadows by the drink coolers.

Blaine meets him there. "That was amazing."

Kurt looks skeptically at him. "The sound system is kind of awful."

"Well, yes," Blaine admits. "But _you_ were stunning."

Kurt blushes and pours a splash of vodka into some fruit juice, then takes a sip. "Thank you."

They stand there for a few minutes. There's a weight to the silence, like the air is thicker than normal, and neither one is sure how to press through it.

Somewhere in the background, one song ends, and another begins.

Kurt puts down his drink. "I love this song," he says. "Want to dance?"

"I would be delighted to," Blaine smiles.

They spend the next hour on the grass, Kurt shimmying suggestively and Blaine acting out the songs beside him. Kurt's friends mostly smile and nod at them, though Santana shouts "get it, Hummel!" Kurt gives her the finger and keeps dancing.

When they get tired, they eat chips and burgers, and then talk. About life as a performer in New York. About favorite movies and books. About different memories of Ohio, public school versus all-boys private school, summer jobs and show choir competitions and driving through that one snowstorm that shut everything down. About Kurt's favorite New York bodega cats and the golden retriever that plays with Blaine in the park in Pittsburgh.

And then... people start leaving. Kurt looks at his phone, then at Blaine.

"I should go," Kurt says. "I want to get home before my dad goes to bed." He presses his lips together. "The worst part of living in New York is being away from him."

Blaine nods. "I'll head out, too. It's a bit of a drive back to Westerville."

It takes a while to extract themselves from the group. Tina and Sam want to talk, and Santana makes some suggestive comments that make Kurt blush. But eventually, they are on the sidewalk, heading for their respective cars.

"This is me," Kurt says. It's the SUV from Blaine's dream.

They both stop for a moment, not sure what to do.

"So..." Blaine starts. "How much longer are you going to be in Ohio?"

"About a week." Kurt grimaces. "I work at a diner in New York, and my boss will probably fire me if I stay away any longer." He pauses. "What about you?"

"I don't know," Blaine replies. "I've got to go through all my boxes and decide what to store and what to take with me when I move. If I don't, my parents will hold a giant yard sale and sell it all."

Kurt laughs. "My father knows better than to do that with my things," he says.

"Plus I need to figure out how to even move to New York," Blaine continues. "I've never gone someplace without a plan before. It's one thing to get all the advice, and it's another to act on it." He shrugs. "I don't even know how to find an apartment in a strange city."

Kurt holds out his hand. Blaine looks at it, confused.

"Your phone," Kurt says when Blaine doesn't react. "Give it to me." Kurt takes it, then taps in a number. "New York is a big city," he says. "You'll need a friend there. Call me when you start hunting for an apartment." He grins. "I love finding bargains."

Blaine smiles back. "I will." He taps his phone, then waits until Kurt pulls out his own and answers it. "Hello, this is Blaine Anderson calling," he says. "Is Kurt available?"

Kurt laughs. "I am, actually." He puts his phone back in his pocket and looks carefully at Blaine for a moment longer. "Good night, Blaine."

Blaine nods. "Good night."

He stands there a moment longer, watching Kurt get into his car and drive away.

*

The hallway is long and empty, colorless except for the dark red of the carpet. Blaine walks down it like he's looking for something.

There is only one door, and Blaine is holding a key card in his hand. He slips it into the slot and watches the light turn green.

Kurt is at the far end of the room, back to the door. He doesn't turn immediately. "Come on in," he says. "Want a drink?" Suddenly, it looks like the entire contents of a hotel minibar are sitting on the table in front of him.

Blaine steps in and closes the door behind him. "My father always told me never to take anything from the minibar," he says. "Mostly because it was all over-priced, and we could get better things outside the hotel."

Kurt turns and leans back against the table. "It's a dream, Blaine," he says. "We won't be charged for anything."

Blaine nods, looking around. The room is empty except for the table and a gigantic bed. There isn't even a television.

Suddenly, Kurt is standing in front of him, eyes glowing in the dim light. Kurt glances at Blaine's lips, then back up.

Blaine takes a breath and waits.

Kurt looks at him again, then takes a step back. "Have you ever tried lucid dreaming?" he asks.

"I know the song," Blaine says. It's not what he wants to think about, not standing in front of Kurt in a room with a giant bed.

Kurt shakes his head. "Not like the song," he says. "It's like... you know you're dreaming, and you can control what happens."

"Like I know that I'm dreaming right now?" Blaine asks.

"Yes," Kurt says. "But then you also decide what you want to happen." He looks at Blaine. "Want to try?"

Blaine shuts his eyes for a moment - which is weird, he's already asleep, his eyes must be closed - and imagines. He feels Kurt's lips on his, and Kurt's back under his hands, and opens his eyes.

Kurt blinks in surprise as he breaks the kiss. "That..." He pauses. "I meant for you to do something that _you_ wanted. Not something that _I_ wanted."

"What if we want the same thing?" Blaine leans in and kisses Kurt again.

At first it's gentle, tentative, feeling each other out. But then Kurt cups Blaine's face and Blaine pulls Kurt's head down towards him and their tongues slide into each other's mouths, hungry and impatient.

And then, suddenly, they're on the bed. Kurt's shirt is unbuttoned, and Blaine's polo is rucked up on his back.

Kurt stops for a moment. "Is this ok?"

Blaine murmurs something that he hopes sounds like _yes_ as he starts kissing his way down Kurt's neck, then pushes aside the bright blue of the shirt to reveal new stretches of pale skin. And then Blaine's shirt is gone and Kurt's hands are roaming up and down Blaine's back and loosening the gel in Blaine's hair. Blaine rolls onto Kurt and presses down against him, letting Kurt feel Blaine's erection.

And then they are in their underwear, rutting against each other. Kurt rolls them to the side and grabs a couple different bottles of lube from the nightstand. Blaine looks at them, chooses one, and slips his already-slick hand between them, where their cocks already are sliding against one another. Blaine has no idea where their underwear has gone, and he doesn't care.

"Blaine," Kurt whispers, closing his eyes as his head falls back. His hips push up so his cock slides through Blaine's fingers. Blaine responds by pumping his hand over both of them, moving more and more erratically until they come, one after the other.

Blaine leans his forehead against Kurt's, unable to move. Kurt lies there for a moment, then presses a sloppy kiss to the side of Blaine's mouth.

"Should we clean up?" Blaine asks. But they aren't sticky at all.

Kurt rolls them to their sides, nudging Blaine until their heads are sharing a pillow. "What do you want to do now?" Kurt asks.

"I usually fall asleep while snuggling," Blaine says. "Unless the other guy wants to leave."

"We could do that." Kurt watches him. "But it's a dream, Blaine. We could go again if we want to."

And Blaine suddenly realizes that, yes, he wants to. So they trade blow jobs. They find condoms on the nightstand, and Blaine comes with Kurt's fingers inside him first, and then again while riding Kurt's cock. They try things that Blaine has only ever heard described, and which he isn't certain are actually physically possible. But it doesn't matter, because it's a dream.

And then, finally, Blaine wraps himself around Kurt and listens to him breathing until finally, they are both asleep.

*

Blaine rolls over, expecting his head to be pillowed on a shoulder. But he's alone, in his bed in his parents' house. It's dark, except for a bit of moonlight. He sighs and looks at his phone.

There is a text there, from less than ten minutes ago.

_Hey._

Blaine taps a response. _Hey, yourself._

 _Having sweet dreams?_ And Kurt is officially the world's most adorable tease.

 _The sweetest,_ Blaine replies.

 _Do you have plans tomorrow?_ Kurt asks.

 _Why?_ Blaine wonders whether he could fall asleep and dream some more. He's already getting hard.

_I was wondering... would you be interested in getting some coffee?  
The Lima Bean doesn't actually have carnivorous cookies.  
Though I did used to work there. And there are mice.  
_

Blaine laughs. _I'd love that. With or without mice._

 _See you at ten?_ Kurt asks.

 _Ten sounds great,_ Blaine replies. He waits for a moment, then adds: _So it's a date?_

 _It's a date,_ Kurt replies.

Blaine falls back to sleep, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misgivings about the ending:
> 
> \- This is the first chapter that I wrote from only one POV, rather than switching POV when the dream started. Wonder if it's missing something by not hearing what's in Kurt's head. (Also wonder if I don't have a very good handle on Blaine - his POV always seems to have less personality in my fics.)
> 
> \- The sex dream doesn't feel as dreamlike as the other ones.
> 
> \- Wonder if my internal squick against anything other than totally aware consent has an inherent conflict with the concept of a relationship in dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> It is probably a good thing that I wrote this after having the weird airplane dream, and not after the angsty hurt-without-comfort dream about a pair of deer that hang out in my yard...
> 
> Good night, and sweet dreams, dear readers.


End file.
